Artorias: Traveler of illusions
by jevaf5
Summary: One hundred purging stones, a cursed legendary great-sword, and a soul of a fallen knight and his dead companion... May the legendary Artorias and his "dog" rise once more... (An ill-fated attempt conjured up by a powerful necromancer in lordran goes wrong as the souls of the dead begin to stir once more, the souls of sif and his master are materialized in a land of unknown)


Well this is my first crossover story, personally I'm stoked about this and the story will be updated constantly… (Kinda like warframe…) BTW I own absolutely NOTHING what-so ever. Enjoy fans. ~jevaf5

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"In lordran time is convoluted… Even in the age of man."

Time and time later of repeatedly dying the chosen undead had finally crushed his enemy's one way or another, until he defeated the mighty but hollow lord Gwyn and snuffed out the fires of the precious flame, he ushered in the newly "true" age of man prophesized by an unruly cruel toothy serpent. Because of this the remaining inhabitants of lordran were even more discombobulated by the oncoming darkness and began to seek whatever shelter they could find…

Unfortunately for them there was barely any true shelter at all in the wretched dead land of the gods; citizens that tried to flee underground were engulfed by the many horrors and poisons of the hellish swamp-like waters of Blighttown while the majority of the others fled into the catacombs unknowing of the even more terrifying undead skeletons that slaughtered the countless numbers of innocents, thus adding more bones to their mindless armies even without the presence of Gravelord Nito the first of the dead or his traitorous follower the homely and sorrowful determined pinwheel who still continues to rot as a corpse trapped inside a giant sarcophagus…

Some people even tried their doomed hands at seeking refuge in the ruins of new londo, but only to have many of their party picked off by the distant dragon relatives the blue drakes when the humans attempted to cross their valley's cliffs. The survivors of the lightning breathing avian-like reptiles suffered far worse however when they came across the entrance of the forbidden fallen city and at first were horrified as well as appalled at the traumatizing sight of the massive quintiles of dead soggy rotten bodies of the previous inhabitants.

But this was a do or die situation with no other option, as they traversed pass the corpses the rest of the party was instantly (if not slowly) picked off by the cursed ghosts, mounds of vengeful flesh, and the worst of all, DARKWRAITHS… Not another soul was even spared, and neither a single soul nor escape at the life-draining hands of the demonic evil knights of the deceased four kings, whose souls lost inside the intangible but deadly blackness of the abyss.

Why in fact there were even humans desperate enough to try to dash across the terrors of Sen's fortress, and once again with the same outcome as the rest while their corpses proceeded to litter the death-trap buildings numerous already blooded floors, but it was all a terribly-fated effort to cross into the ancient city of Anor londo, and just like before so-long ago only one person had made it across the death-filled fortress but unlike his predecessor the legendary Black Iron Tarkas he did not perish at the nonexistent hands of gravity but was met with a much more morbid fate... Solitude, a terror he experienced that almost caused him to lose his own remaining sanity, which is until one time he braved across the heights of the large buildings and the blades of the alabaster cloaked painting guardians. Afterwards he discovered a giant painting, the largest he'd ever seen but when the hollowing man touched it he was never heard from again.

And finally the most foolhardy and headstrong of the sane undead and humans were obliterated by the ongoing front of darkness created by their dark lord. Those fools were then truly forgotten with not a shred of physical flesh to even tell proof of the existence they were once bestowed consumed mercilessly by the spread of the abyss itself.

However ironically were the darkness once thrived eons ago very few people were actually able to find the safety they craved for, deep within the Darkroot Garden they found little comfort from the local inhabitants and surly would have perished just like the other groups of scattered humans, were it not for the white cat Alvina who guided them from a disaster outcome that would of insured their doom. This individual group survived but it didn't prosper from fear of the abyss they were able to keep its monstrosities at bay though… It was soon realized by those people after a few years that they were quite possibly the last humans in the confines of Lordran, and none dare approach the Basin's tower to the undead parish as it was seething with tremendous abyssal malice, a malice that was crawling out every way it could go. In a rush the remaining humans and sane undead created mounding walls around the entrances that led towards that cursed valley of the drakes, the far stretches of the ruins of Oolacile a place where the abyss had risen long ago, a path that also led to the grave of a divine blacksmith at an ancient decaying church, and lastly anyplace the dark would try to reach out to them…

Many countless years passed by during the age of man. Lordran was no-longer a place to neither enter nor escape, and very seldom remnants of adventurers tried to rediscover the terraformed land as it would always end in disaster…

Some more time passed later and one man had enough of living in the deadly enchanted Darkroot woods… With the art of necromancy he planned to revive the dead to fight for him to reclaim what had rightfully belonged to the light, after hearing legends and preforming a little research the necromancer had planned out his targets whose corpses dwelled in the basin itself. The problem for him was however, the necessary ingredients and items needed for it to work, for peculiar reasons he had earlier found a fragmented shard of a powerful soul, a sliver of one of the legendary lord souls or to be more precise a tiny piece of the lost life soul before it had become chaotic, and following other adventures the necromancer set off to the grave of his targets, the grave of the Great grey wolf Sif and his master the Legendary Artorias the abysswalker…

(The grave of the Wolf and of the Abysswalker)

Upon the ground lays countless swords from ages ago that have plunged into the green soil, the old steel swords are of many different types each a testament to the once great prowess of the Great grey wolf Sif who protected his masters grave so fiercely, and not only him but any other who came for his master's special ring when he had fought them they didn't know that he was actually protecting them too… But that was so-long ago back in the ages of forgotten events, this was now were his soul lies in the same dirt as his great master. The wolf's giant blade stands plunged in the ground like the rest, in the center of the grassy arena is a giant tombstone, its discerption lost to time like the rest of the area.

Below the enormous tombstone is a man wearing black rugged torn ceremonial robes laced with a unique golden hemming while his face was concealed by a hollowed thief's hood that prevented his appearance from being revealed because of its pitch-black visage. The black robes had several torn areas on the back, chest, and one on the persons left sleeve which was slightly charred from one of his adventures in the distant past. He seemed to be murmuring multiple words from his hidden mouth as he stands over a collection of large boulders pushed together to form a makeshift table of a sort.

The large stone table had various objects carefully placed on top of its somewhat jagged rough texture, the stony surface was stained with small traces of blood that had dried over a long period of time but besides that there was a large strange great sword; its length was long, about nearly eight or more feet long with certain pieces of its model torn off from an unknown dark force that oddly enough quietly resonates a black energy towards another peculiar item next it which was placed carefully in some kind of pedestal woven together from the wood of the enchanted moss-like hostile beings that roam outside the confines of the arena and the tiny human settlements. The object the magic wooden pedestal had clutched around its claw-like small but sturdy branches was a floating blue light shrouded by writhing black tendrils that coiled and tensed repeatedly upon the blue light like a consisting vine or snake trying to persuade the helpless fading light to give into its strength. But the small blue light doesn't seem to yield in the slightest and this is suddenly acknowledged by a hoarse chuckle emitting from the mysterious robe covered character who continues to watch and observe the struggles of the light and the black wavy tendrils of darkness.

"The soul of he who was consumed by the Abyss…hmm, just as the old legends pronounce that it seems he was defeated, and his honor persevered, by some unsung hero, who is the true victor over the abyss…"

The shady figure uttered aloud watching the struggle with his eyes cloaked in his own hood before looking down towards another object of his interest that was also held in a smaller pedestal, was a second light though this one was far brighter than that distantly across from it. This light emitted a slight sting due to its bright yellow, void of any of that black ooze tendril-like material trying to restrain the other light.

Below the yellow bright light was a gigantic but old canine which appeared like it once belonged in the mouth of an unnaturally sized wolf-like entity, their very presence with on another caused a similar reaction just like that black stained sword and the suffering blue light, the giant tooth released a small but visible pulse aimed at the bright light which responded back with a second pulse.

Lifting up his hands the suspicious necromancer unfolds his hands to reveal a sliver of an orange shining light which was extremely thin compared to the other lights while that blue one was becoming dim every so-often only to then resurface from the hold of the black hooks that continuously restrained it.

The Necromancer was incapable of showing emotion through his facial shroud but it was obvious that he was indeed cringing from simply holding the sliver of orange flickering light. He then refocused on something else, something that he himself had gathered together in sheer congregation, the shrouded man chuckled a little when he gazed at the mass of one hundred special stones that had a skull-like detail engraved on them, but to him they were better known as purging stones, a unique commodity used by the sane undead or remaining people to remove curses and other things that can taint one's body or soul…

"Tis has been a long journey indeed, but my efforts shall be paid handsomely, once the great grey wolf and his master reawaken I nor thy family shall be desperate slaves to orders of that fat white sliver-tongued feline. Instead I will rally the other humans with my brilliant arts of advanced necromancy and we shall storm the forbidden parish tower and I will resurrect the most powerful of creatures and beings from their souls… With that thy shalt slowly then reclaim all of Lordran and they shalt worship me for thy progress… all beginning with you…"

The necromancer continued to cringe slightly at the scorching pain radiating from the orange lord soul of life's sliver which burned him with hesitation of any kind, although he had suffered far worse when the man had first discovered it, the importance of the soul was realized quickly before he had judged the object.

"Now, let's just hope that this doth not backfire like in the children's stories."

The necromancer insured himself remembering the almost forgotten tales of the long lost Izalith and the horrors the stories echoed…

He raised up the sliver of the life soul and for a moment lost himself in its shining radiance, behind his hooded cowl the necromancer was in a state of awe at his long hard work and that the effort would at least be worth while. (that's what he thinks though)

"STOP!" Shouted a hollering voice not far from the entrance of the hero's grave, the sound was very loud and caused the necromancer to halt his process in the nearly complete ritual as he turned around to find the source of the abrupt tone, oddly enough it was a voice that the dark magic user once recognized as an old friend but the kind of "old friend" who at the moment perceives your current intentions as something like a dangerous sin, thus the man shrouded in black cloth developed a glare that while may be hidden the feeling of aggression could easily be felt.

"Kytherin! Cease this foolish charade of madness! the old witch could not control the soul, and much less you if thy attempt!" Shouted a man that carried the loud voice at the entrance, however the man was already treading across the old soil of the grave-site while he continued to yell at the "mysterious" necromancer or better known as Kytherin by the other sane beings. The user of the abrupt tone was defiantly humanoid but like the majority of the others he was an undead, (safe to say he was also sane) he wore a set of grey steel armor which glistens in the midnight's ominous skies while the sound of his heavy armor could be heard from a distance every time he took a step.

"I pleadth thee to forsake this pointless endeavor for you shall eradicate the remaining little safety that we posses, too many of our relatives of old have fallen at the hands of the spreading abyss, transformed into vicious primordial men by its corruption... What shall ye say? Shalt thy abandon the futile quest and return to the garden?"

the steel-knighted undead spoke with a subtle but serious tone mixed with a variety of caution, not knowing what sort of delusions haunt the very person in front of him, but the voice he spoke in was indeed like that of an old friend, but just as before he was a friend that stood against Necromancer Kytherin's goals. And the knight's hopes of persuasion however were instantly demolished by a volley of verbal rebellion.

"Your precious hopes to sway me are just as obsolete as our "decorated" past you fallen saint of the dead sun, what thy perceive as an act of abomination, is a salvation towards humanity! So how dare you testify against the whole of man! Begone from the grave of the wolf-knight, return to that fat-white cat and say to her that she shall guide man in the wrong direction no-longer!" Kytherin particularly yelled at the steel armor-plated warrior in a stern almost malicious voice of sheer anger.

"Neigh! I sayth to thee then that ye are a fool of the foolish, Alvina hath led our pathetic party to safety, where the same could never be said for the groups that branched off the other areas of this cursed land! Humanity will take back Lordran in time, perhaps not even in tens of lifetimes or so but it will prevail like in the cycles the feline hath described! you heard them too you arrogant bastard!" The steel knight retaliated back with another strict voice while accusingly pointing out his plated finger towards the shady necromancer who sat cross-legged in front of his makeshift stone alter. But Kytherin only replied with a jeering tone following words of truth held in that steady yet ominous voice.

"It is thee whom art the fool of fools steel-patron... The fire hath faded a long time ago. But I plan to strike my torch into its cinders and rekindle the flame that hath died, isn't that what "she" also said... "Everything must die so that something new could be born from the ashes" Hmm?..." He harshly chuckled at the irony of himself using a quote of his supposed enemy whom he disliked ever-so. However any silence that would of been born out of the paused moment between the two men was severed without hesitation by the sound of a long broad steel-reinforced sword being withdrawn by its master from its sheath, though the necromancer's face was concealed he didn't have a surprised expression upon it after seeing who created the sound.

"Tis to be expected from one such as thee knight. To raise up his arms at an old acquaintance...(sighs)" The Necromancer named Kytherin exhaled in a sense of shame as he stood up onto his legs, turning around he held the life soul sliver in his clenched right hand, but he was grasping it not too tightly because it would be further divided and converted into something useless if Kytherin crushed it. He looked upon the steel knight seeing that in his human appearing eyes that there was a small trace of hesitation, Kytherin quickly took the advantage of this moment of weakness and administered the sliver of life into a large light-blueish crystal shard that had been thrust into the center of the stone alter. This act was done in a matter of seconds and as the crystal began to alight with the growing color of the sliver injected inside of it a very peculiar energy suddenly was being absorbed from the air around the grave drawing in a foreign power. That Necromancer turned his head to face the Steel covered knight and emitted a small chuckle again while preparing a odd spell that reeked of brimstone traces.

"Heh, the rest of the sacrament shall work itself out, of course i'll have to vanguard it from your likes you insidious hollow. All you do is pretend to play human by utilizing a humanity sprite, how ironic that thy must thrive on what both you and me are destined to slay. The two of us art descendants of the furtive pygmy are we not? But enough talk, if you're going to support that fat fuzzball thy might as well charge upon thee. Heh heh" Kytherin sneered in a sadistic teasing tone even if there was hints of truth and things that the steel knight could agree on, the things that the valiant follower detested were stained deeply inside the necromancers intentions.

With that the Knight charged forth not carrying a word for his old friend for the steel warrior had now considered the man before him a creature far more hollow than he will ever be even in a millennium. But the only word he did erupt from his mouth was that of a war-like cry while it obviously withheld a domineer of shallow grief which was fought by his will to do what the steel plated undead thought what was right. "Thy art truly sorry... PREPARE TO DIE!" He roared like the sound of thunder as the gleaming steel his sword was made of shimmered in the moonlight skies whist being fully extended with a dangerously sharpened point, aimed purly dead-centered on the necromancer.

Though the steel knight was guided by his passion for what he perceived was justice, he was instantly caught unawares by what his adversary quickly brandished. Kytherin cast forth a fiery lava-like torrent that swept across the necromancer's line of sight as the chaotic flames slashed around to the side like a vast deadly whip. In quick retaliation the warrior hoisted his shield from his back and equipped it, knowing that its special enchantment gifted to it by a unique magic the Steel knight swung it in his own front and felt the impact of the heated lava burn against the metal surface. The wild flames of chaos then dissipated at once when the strike was blocked by the special steel shield which shown no signs of taken fire damage. Kytherin also noticed that this wasn't the only spectacle as he realized the life soul infused primordial crystal shard was attracting the one-hundred purging stones by making them congregate in the air like balloons ensnared in the grasp of gravity, the magic was working itself out just as he had said but his didn't matter to the knight for he was far more intended on stopping this shenanigan.

"So then Kytherin thou hast recovered the magics of pryomancy? Tis a useless offensive against my own defense." The knight said while pounding his sword upon his shield as if to emphasize his point. although he was just replied with a gruesome hidden stare behind the necromancer's cowl, the man covered in blackish robes simply raised forth his hand for another furry of attacks.

"Indeed, but where I've acquired them is none of thy concern. Besides those aren't the only arts I've been able to resurrect misguided knight." He scoffed in a mocking but promising voice, the steel knight would have to watch his movements carefully if he was going to be able to land a direct finishing blow into the necromancer's chest cavity. With haste he slid his shield in front of his face and prepared to brace against the impact of the soon-to-be conjured attack, although the knight tilted his head to the side out of the safety of the shield so that he may glimpse upon the spells radiating in Kytherin's scared palms. Other than that, the levitating purging stones didn't seem to hinder his metal-like focus.

The necro's left hand reached behind it's back and pulled out an object that was also composed of various materials forged from the Darkroot environment, strangely though it's purpose was as obvious as the medium sized sticks appearance, it was heavily hinted by a glowing light perched on-top of the stick like a bulb of light. Behind the steel-knight's helm, the undead's eyes widened in a form of shock and bewilderment at five blue orbs tearing themselves from Kytherin's living body with the aid of the enchanted Darkroot wooden wand which was vibrating at a high rate until the five blue lighted orbs formed around the top of their master, who didn't need to give them a single order as they instantly shot out in convergence upon the Steel knight, who reacted by dodging the first two orbs with a well placed roll to his right side and was able to then gaze at the other two blue soul-like orbs homing in on him like a madly driven target hell-bent on reaching its target. Thinking in the clear the knight looked to his side and ripped a tombstone off of its grassy, dirt perch, and proceeded to use it as a second shield to block the two other homing soul-like blue lights by having them hit the stone instead of his undead flesh. When they impacted the knight could feel them vanishing in a instant, thus he discarded the old tombstone onto the grass with a thud. About to make another attempt to strike the Steel warrior suddenly stopped in his tracks when a heat was felt from the depths of the ground that was rapidly approaching from underneath him, taking the initiative the solider leaps evasively and quickly avoids a horrendous torrent of pure surging chaotic flame erupting from the grave's surface.

"By the dead sun god..." the knight uttered in a exhausted sigh, constantly dodging can take a toll on your stamina's endurance unfortunately. But the undead man became alert at a quick thought that flashed across his mind, he noticed that there was originally five of the soul masses and he had only been able to dodge and barricade himself from just four instead. However before the steel knight could raise up his defensive shield and it's magic metallic surface, a sheering pain of agony flowed throughout the undead's spine while expanding across the poor being's back as a seemingly unending torture ravages the knights entire torso before he falls to the grave-site's grass covered earth, coughing up splotches of blood behind his steel helm.

The knight's will was immense, struggling with great desperation to stand back up onto his feet even though his body had suffered a fatal blow from behind. The steel covered undead clenched the grass with one of his hands while try to maintain himself from completely collapsing onto the ground by having his large steel sword plunged through the old soil in order to hoist his mass upwards. The Necromancer named Kytherin simply smirked behind his abyssal cloak, the cloaked man was truly more of a hollow than his undead adversary as he watched his once oldest friend who practically guarded him his entire life suffer at the magic the man cast forth from those accursed partially charred and burn't hands, Kytherin continued to watch the steel knight struggle not caring of their past no matter how deep it was, the man may of discovered the a non-corrupted sliver of the life soul but he surely appeared to lack the remorse for his actions as if to not have his own soul. Kytherin only cared for his plan, and after a passing three seconds the sinister appearing necromancer raised forth his hand with a growing glow which continued to expanded while it increased in length, the stick of light seemed to resemble a soul because of its color, but in a split second the soul colored light was ejected forwards like a javelin as it soared in the direction of the downed knight.

The steel knight's eyes closed, waiting to embrace the incoming pain. And the agony did deliver indeed with a full-on tormenting impalement that swept right through the steel armor on his large torso, feeling the dreaded soul spear break past his false skin and proceeded to decimate the undead's innards without a sense of mercy while it stilled continued to shred across the being's organs before becoming lodged stuck between the poor knights spine while the blueish soul spear protruded outwards from his back. A large pool of blood was splattered behind the knight as he slowly started to give in, perhaps his will is his greatest curse however for it doesn't seem to waver in him, refusing his suffering body to die at all, thus his hand was still tightly gripped upon the steel sword's hilt even as his won blood continues to drip out of his helmet's slits covering his mouth simultaneously. Breathing was becoming far more difficult for him although he is undead, pain still haunts both him and all that can live.

Kytherin had a concealed look of satisfaction on his cloaked face knowing that his opponent was too injured to put up a fight anymore, as the necromancer turns around he hear a peculiar humming that was raising in volume which then sent him into a state of short-lived troublesome attitude. His hidden eyes dashed back towards the bright glowing primordial crystal shard that he had implanted the pure life soul sliver into, only to find it absorbing the one hundred purging stones faster than the dark magic user had earlier predicted.

"W-what is this, it is... Unexpected." Kytherin spoke aloud unaware of another light being emitted from behind him although he was able to catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of his left eye, and he now had his own look of bewilderment which was expressed via his body movements when he turned rapidly turned around to find the steel knight (who was still apparently impaled with the soul spear as it was still stuck inside his body) using his hand which he freed by dropping his shield onto the blood-stained grass to soak his helm with a yellow-and-orange liquid that he was spilling from a emerald green flask. The strange thick liquid was seeping in through the facial slit on the steel knight's helmet and possibly was being consumed once it reached his blooded lips, the more he was consuming caused a surge of heavenly golden tendrils of light to surge around his body, closing all the wounds in quick efficiency and began to force the soul spear to shrink as the gaping wound around it was replaced with false flesh and skin.

As the recovering knight finished drinking the strange orange liquid he instantly discarded the emerald flask by throwing it towards a sturdy tombstone making it shatter into a hundred pieces due to its age and frailty. Kytherin shook his head in a form of quick confusion before he remembered a passage he read a long time a ago in a city of unnamed ruins about what was happening.

"I-i don't know how thee were able to recover a legendary Estus Flask, but all it means is that we'll engage in the second round, and that will be the last dual you'll ever experience. Though i'll deal with thee in haste for a unexpected situation is occurring with the sacrament. Would thy stayth still once more then?" Kytherin spoke coldly and sadistically as he began to start up another soul spear with his Darkroot wood wand. The steel knight lifted himself upwards onto his two feet with the steel sword in hand and the enchanted steel shield held in the other, he thought to himself that this needed to end now because he was out of the only remaining estus in quite possibly lordran that could be barely assessed by sane beings. Another plan had just then appeared in his steel-covered helm however while his word may be large, wouldn't be of ample use to what he had in mind. Just right before he was about to be struck again with another soul spear the knight reached over to his side and tore forth a large jagged-edge blackish colored sword from the grave's ground and hurdled it at a unnatural speed, causing the large melee weapon to become a deadly projectile of immanent perilous death that soared lightning-fast at necromancer Kytherin who was caught unawares at the velocity of the old airborne zweilhander greatsword.

"Nito's dying light-" Kytherin was unable to finish his sentence as the black greatsword buried itself into his side or more precisely his abdomen which became torn asunder by the heavy impact. The necromancer's only retaliation was in a loud verbal shriek as the big blade on the greatsword pierced itself out the other end of the human's body, and the rest of the force from that blow forced his entire being to become airborne like the sword before it struck him. The Necromancer soared for a short time until the sharp blade sticking forth from his back pierced a second surface, the stone alter Kytherin once made somewhat soon became his own temporary prison whist he sputters moderate quantities of his own foul blood, gushing tears that stream down from his teary eyes induced by the horrible pain.

"Bastard!" Kytherin coughed out another few spots of blood that splatter onto the grave-site's grassy terrain, he did this several times before proceeding to sputter more vicious insults which were only echoed in vain for his opponent ignored their heed. "Drown in the (coughs) abyss you fool! Burn in the fiery pits of the Lost Izalith you dried-up hollow!" The necromancer splattered even more blood onto the grass and dirt.

The Steel warrior just stared at the mess of flowing blood and staining red coming from the deathly injured fiend he once called his friend, he draws out his steel sword at full length, letting it's seek but deadly blade reflect the moon's light that shines upon it's metallic surface. The knight found himself walking forward in the direction of his fallen enemy, his refined metal boots stomping onto the terrain like a marching solider about to go straight for the kill. Kytherin was beyond the point of regular panicking, the foolish necromancer had found himself in a situation that has made him appear like a stereotype and a very pathetic one at that. The man didn't even get to showcase his numerous other spells he had recovered from the ruins of the places that were lost to humans, now he was at the mercy of a person he betrayed not but just seconds ago, pinned to the very alter he had created with his own scared hands unable to dislodge the enormous zweihander greatword from his soon to be corpse.

A feeling was coming over him however, it could possibly be the blood-loss induced by the massive blade's sharpness that had severed several of his arteries... no that wasn't exactly the feeling that was beginning to course throughout his bleeding body but something entirely different, it ran like a non-stop stream of energy which began to give him a minor strength but for only a mere second as it rapidly faded into a spec and then repeated fading in and out over and over like a constant surge becoming faster every passing moment. Kytherin's eyes became dilated while a fiery yellowish color began to invade his iris'es which became so large that they appeared to look like two bright circular lights flashing in the darkness of the hood. And last a dreaded feel of pain was set as it bustled through the areas of the necromancers body that were skewered by the greatsword.

The steel knight suddenly halted in his movements upon seeing what was transpiring in front of him, much to Kytherin's horror he soon realized that the life soul-infused-primordial shard was giving off tremendous repulses of energy that was being channeled through the zweilhander's metal blade and into the necromancer's body via the impaled alter, The steel-warrior stood motionless at the sight of Kytherin's body breaking out into violent spasms uncontrollably, the experience was far worse for that necromancer because he was still completely conscience while a transformation was enveloping over his being. The dark magic user looked towards his own hands as they began to adopt a new abnormal terrifying texture, his skin was beginning to transform from its regular supple human feel to a rugged wooden bark-like surface that even was affecting his clothing while the man's blackish robes became stiff and the curse spreads itself throughout Kytherin who stared at the steel night with a truly mortified grimace as he attempted to extend one of his arms to the enemy that was once his old friend, trying to ask him for help given the circumstance he was in.

As soon as he extended his limb the wooden texture had fully taken over the appendage converting the arm into a branch, the hand's fingers were elongated into smaller branches with their tips curled into a position resembling large pointed jagged wood claws. Kytherin was beyond terrified at what was happening to him especially when he saw his entire arm turn into a branch, however he had soon noticed that his legs had already turned into a mass of roots which were plugged into the terrain's grass covered soil. When the curse had finally reached past his neck the back of the mans facial shroud had developed what would appear to be massive straight horn-like branches that jutted out while some of the branches coiled onto the necromancers throat and wrapped all the way down around to his sternum. As a last resort the cursed man expelled a last word from his fading wood mouth before it became closed off completely.

"Artriigaaaaaaaan!-" Kytherin tried to shout out his last words at the steel knight before being completely transformed into a horrifying humanoid-looking wooden tree-like amalgamation void of any capable movement what-so-ever. The steel knight froze standing and staring at the scene in form of deeply concentrated contemplation trying to figure out what had just happened, but seconds pasted with only silence filling the grass covered arena instead of a logical conclusion. The knight took his steel sword in both hands as he dropped the enchanted steel shield before thrusting the metal blade into the ground in front of the cursed wooden tree and proceeding to kneel over beside his plunged sword in an emotion of slight grief for his doomed misguided friend.

"Wherever thy soul flees to... may it find redemption, my fallen brother in arms." He gave his small speech hinted with traces of minor sorrow, he honestly never had thought that the necromancer would of suffered such a fate as this maybe in all those mysterious ruins now forbidden to his kind could of easily did him in just as every other human adventurer who wandered into the decimated domains. Although the time for true grieving and sorrowful wails would best to be heard later instead of now, the Sacrament was still in full power with a illuminating growing glow spreading viciously across the alter and its many cracks were filled with the life soul corrupted crystal's cursed light which signified the sliver's immense power.

Having already exhausted his time the steel knight found the crystal to be ascending into the air above the grave's ground just out of his melee reach, unable to properly slash the accursed thing with normal means of sword destruction. However this trivial problem would not prevent the knight from utilizing other means of grounding the insanely powerful target, he looked around the vicinity of his perception trying probe the surroundings for something of use, and surely enough his eyesight lays upon the very steel sword he had just pierced the earth with. At a breakneck speed the knight tore the blade out of the ground with tremendous and unnecessary strength, then again he was being rushed by the circumstances of this situation, in the wake of the sword being retracted countless amounts of dirt particles shot forth from the soil causing them to clash up-against his own armor and only reflect back into thee grass because of the metal's thick surface.

Gripping his sword's hilt with a powerful zeal to complete his goal at any cost the steel-armored knight drew back his arm holding the weapon allowing it to build-up the adequate strength he needed to cast it. After acquiring the right amount of force the knight threw out his steel sword with enough ease as if it was instead a throwing knife, the swords reinforced steel blade cuts through the night's empty air once again capturing the essence of the full moon's gleaming white natural light before the projectile met its crystalline target with a shuddering bang that echoed around the entire Darkroot forest.

"Damnth the lords..." The knight exhaled these words out of his dried mouth in a form of horror and confusion at witnessing the very dreadful outcome of his attempt to destroy the corrupted primordial crystal and only to witness the destruction of his trusty steel sword companion when it fragmentized simply on mere contact against the crystal and shattered as soon as it was repelled by the impact. The undead knight stared as the weapon that had once always protected him like a caring guardian perish near instantly before his sight, a word of wisdom he recalled from a dead smith of the long lost times that became quite the saying among the sane denizens of the forest.

"I believed weapons... would never betray thy master... I ponder now." He sighed in frustration knowing that his weapon was beyond any repair that could even come close to restoring it to it's former state of glory like it was just before a couple seconds ago. Looking back up at the life soul sliver imbued crystal he noticed that those two souls that Kytherin was paying so much of his attention towards were being hoisted with their respected physical earthly attachments into the amassing light made up of the purging stone's essence. The growing light was being channeled by the properties of the life soul's sliver inside the crystal which if Kytherin had originally intended to mention his plan in absolute detail, would act as a regeneration source to the leftover traces of the abyssal greatwsord's previous master and the massive canine tooth to its.

The knight had also thought of tearing the dark bladed zweilhander greatsword from Kytherin's wooden corpse until a more troublesome theory strayed into the undead's mind that if the life crystal was channeling it's power throughout the makeshift stone table and through the greatsword itself, he would most likely end up suffering the same horrific fate and death of the necromancer, plus the theory was supported by the visual fact that the energy was not only coursing around the deformed tree-like husk of Kytherin but it was also flowing across the surface of both the blade and the hilt with a bright orange-yellowish radiating light indicating it's power is live even if the blade was lodged inside the corpse of Kytherin.

Having seen too much of this sacrament last, the knight armed his shield on his right hand while he dove his left hand into a small lather pocket he earlier integrated onto the midsection of his armor, quickly he sifted his armored hands through the contents of the small sack until the knight found the object he desired when he felt it's distinctive shape. As he withdrew the item from it's leathery home the steel knight took a second to capture the details of the object to ensure that it was indeed what he had hoped to seize, he glanced noticing the chipped-off pieces of an odd bone-like structure protruding outwards in a slanted position while the base of the item was also coated mostly by what would appear to be white ashes mixed with a special substance unknown to even him or the old legends although Kytherin would have most likely be the one to have known it's true origin in creation that exploring necromancer will never uttered a human word again.

Frustration was increasing in the knights mind, knowing that he was exhausting his time by redirecting his focus to something less important. But he had to make himself clear so he didn't act recklessly, the item in his left hand's possession was without a doubt a unique homeward bone lined with a coating normally found on the colored stones that allow individuals to teleport to different worlds or call each-other out across space and time itself, however this special homeward bone had a far more cruel intent that only it's forever lost legends could tell.

The Knight's patience had died and so he readied the homeward bone in his hand about to hurl it towards the abomination of a sacrament, that is until a vicious beam was ejected down form the growing light in the form of what would look to be pitch-black wavy violent abyssal tendrils. The horrendous mass of lukewarm looking black writhing worms began to manifest themselves by sifting around upon one another, intertwining and some even braiding over each other as if to take on a tall dark brooding humanoid-like form. They seethed out a lethal odor that reeked of a foul intent of everlasting darkness etched down to ever single abyssal thread they were composed of, in a relentless locomotion the failing pitch-black whips continued to grasp against one-another giving them the ability to increase their height as long as the wretched pile remains combined as one.

As the abyssal tendrils advanced onto each-other the humanoid-like form they were creating was probably the most shocking and somewhat disturbing in a terrifying manner. A unique but rugged dark blueish helm was woven together by the lines of darkness while the largest tendril that was originally crafting the artificial chest cavity was then grafted into the back of the pseudo helm creating a dreadfully wicked abyss waving plume like that of an old knight legend. In the meanwhile the twisting dark threads of abyss had created proper appendages to stand upright while razor sharp crooked and jagged spines created by the same materiel instantly sprouted and also violently from the dark abomination's newly formed elbows, wrist, and even fingertips. Held within the monstrosity's right sagging fake artificial dark palm was a growing larger mass of the same tendrils that strengthened around themselves far tighter than the ones that the entity was composed of making them almost stronger than the being itself ironically, though its what the writhing mass of dark threads created by conjoining into that sent tsunamis of chilled inner-terror down the Steel-knights spine.

"Kytherin I warned thee... And now abominations as such stands before me... Abomination that were a point in their existence heroes... I will have to restore the honor of this individual which thy hath defiled." The knight uttered in a dark tone of voice while gazing in absolute terrifying awe at the corruption that had spawned from the light as it waved its vile plume to the slide and letting it sway in the grave-site's nights wind before the weapon in its hand completed to match the appeal of an ancient greatsword of the abyss. To boot the sheer terror the weaving tendrils had contracted upon on-another to form gruesome vile black talons over what would be the thing's fingernails although it had none to begin with.

And then it took action... The abomination had shot itself towards the steel knight carrying the force stored within the truly abyssal greatsword while leaving a steam of trailing darkness as its entire being cleaved straight through the cold night's air. The black plume waved frantically as the hollow shade of an old corrupted knight continued to burst forth to any unfortunate target it's fearsome entity seeks out to obliterate. The closer it came to striking the steel knight the wretched abyssal creature seemed to release a foul and extremely inhuman yell that would send a regular warrior, knight, or fighter rushing back to their precious kingdom for immediate protection...

But not this steel knight... What did he have lose as an undead, what dangers wouldn't welcome such a brave soul that had to thrive on them to retain his beloved sanity, every time he ventures away from the non-appealing comfort of the living or un-living he has more of a joyous feeling of walking past the thick fog and welcoming the ice-cold embrace of death. An old saying to the many undead like him is that "if you get knocked down seven times, stand up an eighth". Besides the satisfaction of dying as an undead is in that mere second you've glanced upon the abyss itself, there's a unique solitude which allows you to reflect on your existence whether it be a mirage of multiple triumphs in that old life of yours, or a once lived dismal, hopeless horror that only reminds you of all the disparity you put up with. The steel knight pondered in his head only just mere moments away from reviving a powerful instant demise, but something was off inside him though all of a sudden, perhaps it was the death of the necromancer that was shaking his faith into weakness.

As the impacting clash of darkness and steel shield collided the knight's grip on the unique homeward bone was reduced to frailty and when the monstrosity drew its gruesome abyssal giant blade even harder on the shield in an attempt to penetrate the barrier with none than sheer aggression and force alone, the knights grasp had suddenly lost its holding onto the special artifact causing it to fly straight forth from the safety of his armored gauntlet's palm. Soaring across the gaping vastness of the night it seemed to be heading directly towards its impending doom, although the steel knight might have claimed to have underestimated the durability of the odd bone item after seeing it land into the patchwork of grass blades that made the grave-site's terrain.

The knight cursed however anyways knowing that the demonic pitch-black creature was beginning to compromise his defense already the more it pressed on the warrior's protective shield. The knight was tempted to stare the monstrous thing clearly at its' nonexistent eyes hidden behind the blackness tendril woven shroud of an older fallen knight, but alas the dreaded truth about the creature was indeed obvious because no matter how one could even put-it this was in all of it's horror an aberration of the abyss or a revenant of the darkness that was possibly dispelled from the purging sacrament, either way this abomination had manifested itself into it's own physical form from the immense power which the knight could certainly feel the corrupt power trying to channel its way past the enchanted steel shield the steel armored undead possessed.

The monstrosity continued to push onward through the knight's steel shield with a villainous zeal that screamed for the needy impulse to kill it's target whom was desperate to remain stable on his two legs while maintaining his defensive by using his shield. Mustering the remaining strength he possesses, the steel knight employs the surge of power through his arms which suddenly began to prove despite their unusual appearance they also were capable of great raw sheer strength as well when the knight was able to amazingly shove off the towering aberration of demonic abyssal wrath, and then hurl himself backwards into the path of another fallen greatsword embedded in the depths of the grassy grounds covering the battlefield.

Just as the knight slammed almost violently into the propped greatsword, that abomination of blackish, vile mass of waving abyssal tendrils seemed to shout out in a form of immense aggravation, though it was absolutely no surprise to the steel warrior who that cry of anguish was directed towards... Unfortunately for him. The knight gazed deeply upon the creature of darkness as it lept into the night air with an arsenal of deathly tendrils curled into razor sharp jagged tips in the form of violent, yet surprisingly majestic greatswords which reached their climax as they peered over the invisible edge of gravity's physics before scrumming the the force of falling, causing them and their dreaded abominable master to plunge. The steel-armored warrior's hollowed eyes flashed open, widened at the enormous terror descending closely towards him with speed enhanced by the streamline form of the vile sleek midnight black tendrils falling like a sharp knife through the airways, leaving a darkened swoosh in their wake as they converge on the downed knight's position in silent unmatched hate simply of seeing the non-corrupted.

Feeling another surge of the will to live, the knight in steel shot back his free arm and gripped the old greatsword he was leaning on earlier. Channeling his rage for justice into an inner-strength, he tore the giant blade out of the dusty grassy ground, causing another eruption of elder soil to splatter all about a four-foot radius while creating a sizable shroud of dust and dirt particles that were able to suddenly blanket him from the non-existent vision of the seeking dark tendril mass homing in on him for merely a split-second... But luckily for him that was simply all the very little amount of time that he required in order to make his move.

The greatsword of abyssal tendrils came clashing on top of the grass and its soil while cutting straight through the small cloud of dirt particles in an attempt to gnash across the steel-plating of the monstrosity's prey, instead those gruesome blades of flowing spikes were only met with a foul, bitter-feeling disappointment and rage as they found no fresh undead knight blood to splash, nor any of the knight's body to shred. The abomination's plume on the top of its false helm flickered evasively as if it were a sensor for its dreadful master who unleashed a shrill-sounding ear-rupturing battle-cry "RAAAAAHH-" The freakish blackish creature's rage was near instantly culled for nearly one second and then had it unexpectedly burst into an uncontrollably rage when an object, sharp in size and strength to match was injected violently inside of its fake tendril-weaved neck and helm. The deathly impact had sliced off a decent section of the creature's razor-edge whip-like plume as it fell to the ground and instantly deteriorated into a small black puddle of lukewarm liquid known to the surviving masses of Lordan as humanity. The object that had been thrown was a massive greatsword obviously, the enormous blade had found its new "home" housed in between the neck and head of the wretched monster of the black abyss whom was just as confused as it was infuriated upon the horrible pain the wielder of the weapon had inflicted on the creature.

Twenty-foot steps away the steel knight stood gazing ever-so entranced at the damage of his thrown greatsword he "borrowed" from the ground, huffing out small amounts of air that were trapped previously inside his lungs, the breath was originally going to be used for a dying scream until he was able to conjure-up a plan of action, not to mention that real knights and warriors die with honor and a scream wasn't of the highest valor when facing off with any opponent no-matter how foreboding it may appear. Before the abyssal creature was able to come to its primal scenes, the knight bolted off in the direction of the strangely peculiar homeward bone, which was laying blissfully on the grass blades it had fallen upon not so long ago.


End file.
